


Stress Management

by DeerOffal



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Frotting, Hand Jobs, Minor Violence, Other, Trans Character, during the Yorknew City Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerOffal/pseuds/DeerOffal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurapika is not always the most responsible when an opportunity to alleviate their stress and tension presents itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Management

  
“Are you saying I need to have sex with you to get the information?” Kurapika's voice is hard, and has more of an effect on Hisoka than they would have thought. He doesn’t look startled by the question, it’s too strong an adjective, but there is definitely an air that it has left him nonplussed.  
  


“My implications were only that you’re early, and that we could use the extra time for something fun.” Kurapika is more than wary when Hisoka moves closer, steps not quite their normal stalk. It’s as if he’s aware of the likelihood that Kurapika will bolt and is attempting to take extra precautions to stop that from happening.  
  


They take a single step back, muscles rippling into an even more acute tension than they had come with.  
  


“You can’t expect me to believe this job doesn’t leave you without desire to blow off some steam. Even for you, this is wound up.” Hisoka stops his advance when Kurapika moves away further. Almost submissively his eyes drop to the ground, more specifically Kurapika’s feet, as if waiting for them to move away further and reveling in the retreat -- and resulting chase -- as much as the idea of them staying put.  
  


“Do you know me well enough to make such an assessment?”  
  


“No, but anyone off the streets would think the same.” Casually, Hisoka braces his right elbow in his left hand’s open palm so that he can tap his chin as if suddenly caught up in an errant idea. “Perhaps it’s a spar you'd prefer? I can control myself enough to just give you what you _need_.”  
  


Kurapika’s lip curls some in their disgust over the underlying suggestive tones that Hisoka’s speech always seems to carry. It doesn’t stop them from deftly undoing their tie, or unbuttoning their suit’s jack and shrugging it off with sharp motions. All the while Hisoka’s expression becomes incrementally more excited, so much so his eyes finally flick up and off the ground to watch as Kurapika sets the jacket aside.  
  


“I can’t be kept from work tomorrow. You can keep yourself from breaking or bruising bones, yes?”  
  


“Mm,” the hum could be mistaken for a moan, but nothing other than consent. It's not anything close to a promise, and even if it were one Kurapika is immediately certain it’s one that would be broken. Their willingness to do this is built entirely on mounting frustration and aggression about facing the Phantom Troupe, and soon. There's also the knowledge that whatever damage Hisoka does inflict tonight their chain can heal it.  
  


Hisoka may be violent, but he seems more than capable of keeping his toys in working order, and Kurapika needed to be in near peak condition to pull the plans they made together. This wouldn’t end Kurapika in the hospital. That fact doesn’t make their decision any less irresponsible.  
  


They put too much _Ren_ in their first step, closing the sizeable distance between themselves and Hisoka, but at the cost of making their ankle twinge in discomfort. Hisoka raises his forearm to catch the punch aimed for his face, guiding the force and momentum away from his body while simultaneously leaving that side of Kurapika bare of any perceivable defense.  
  


Or, that’s how it should have been. Hisoka doesn’t account for Kurapika’s eyes instantly turning red, or the benefits in raw power that it grants. What was once a grin born of wicked glee at getting his way turns into a small frown of concentration as the blow to his arm does more damage than he had anticipated. He has to shift his stance to keep from being pushed back, and it’s enough time for the red glow to leave Kurapika’s eyes, to bring their arm back in to close off the momentary opening that had been created.  
  


A shallow exhale and the scuffle of fast feet through dust and gravel is the only sound as the two try to get in the best position possible in their sudden close quarters.  
  


Where Hisoka’s much longer limbs used to give him an advantage the extra length is now more a hindrance, though Kurapika has no doubt that it’d do little to impede his fighting’s skills or ferocity. A flurried exchange of blows come not a second later, each block by Kurapika leaving their arms stinging even through their protective aura, and each strike of theirs that is stopped short of their mark leaves the bones in their hands aching from the force they’ve put into them.  
  


A knee to the gut doesn’t factor in for a beat, unprocessed in every way except for a screaming pain. It was too fast to be processed by sight alone, too fast to be perceived, and Kurapika only knows it was Hisoka’s knee because he makes a show of slowly lowering his leg.  
  


“You’ve grown better than I thought. ♥” A compliment Kurapika can neither appreciate nor ignore coming from someone of Hisoka’s caliber.  
  


That only serves to make it all the more grating.  
  


Cold chains weigh down Kurapika’s hand for a moment. Catch a small gleam in the poor lighting and draw Hisoka’s attention so that Kurapika has just enough time to land a solid, open palmed blow into Hisoka’s diaphragm. This time Hisoka is thrown back, Kurapika fast on his heels, but he catches himself gracefully and easily sidesteps Kurapika’s next attack.  
  


Sidesteps so that he’s brushing back against the wall Kurapika had hit him towards. It’s a stupid move to let himself be cornered, no matter how confident he is in himself, and Kurapika wants to make him aware of _exactly_ how poor a choice it was.  
  


Hisoka can still block, of course, but it can only get him so far. Concentration returns to his face. There’s something off about the way he’s blocking that Kurapika can’t pin down. He’s taking some hits for seemingly no reason, ones that he’s receiving damage from, even if it’s minimal, on top of being hit despite his best efforts. Frustration that they’re not being taken seriously leads to a particularly wild punch that Hisoka moves out from under at the last moment, leaving Kurapika's arm wrist-deep in concrete.  
  


Hisoka retaliates with no attacks of his own. Just leans his weight into the wall and reaches out to toy with the untucked edge of Kurapika’s dress shirt.  
  


“You really did need this. Fighting the Troupe with such constipated vexation won’t get you far.” Kurapika doesn’t flinch or even blink when Hisoka carefully tucks their shirt back into their pants.  
  


Hesitation locks up Kurapika’s limbs and stalls the breath in their chest, a reaction that leads Hisoka to hum thoughtfully. Kurapika carefully pulls their hand out of the wall, brushing the dust off their knuckles with short, annoyed swipes.  
  


“Is our fight over? ♣” Poor judgment that can’t be blamed on the adrenaline has Kurapika stepping forward so Hisoka’s knee is just between their thighs. Their hands fist boldly in Hisoka’s shirt, trying to pull him down in ways of answering him.  
  


Hisoka resists.  
  


He doesn’t move an inch even as something sharp enters his smile. He cups one hand behind his ear and Kurapika almost flushes at the implication.  
  


A verbal answer is needed, then, and Kurapika stalls it. Loathes the idea of gritting out the one word of their own free will.  
  


“Yes.”  
  


There isn't a prelude to the crush of lips against theirs. Kurapika refuses to think of anything like this a _kiss_ , aura flaring up to prevent their lips from splitting under the pressure of it, and head turning away completely in mild disgust for the hot feel of Hisoka’s tongue against the seam of their mouth.

  
Hisoka doesn’t force their mouths back together, though his hands do curl around Kurapika’s hips to make sure they don’t move any further away.

“Is there a problem?” Kurapika expects to hear exasperation, but Hisoka’s words are swathed in amusement.  
  


“I don’t like kissing in situations like these.” One night stands aren’t Kurapika’s specialty, but something about kissing usually feels too intimate for them going by past experiences.  
  


Intimate is the last word Kurapika ever wants to associate with someone like Hisoka.  
  


“I’ll show you what **I** like.” Kurapika’s thoughts spin wildly even attempting to guess at what Hisoka would consider enjoyable, and everything they _do_ pull up is unpalatable. Hisoka’s hands slide down from Kurapika’s hips to grip at their ass, lifting them easily off the ground despite the small but immediate protest Kurapika makes.  
  


Rather than being pinned to the wall, something that would have resolutely had their battle reignite if Kurapika had anything to say about it, Hisoka eases them both to the ground so that Kurapika is sitting and straddling his lap.  
  


“Relax. ♠”  
  


“I wouldn’t _need_ to relax if -- “ Hisoka laughs against Kurapika’s neck, uninterested but amused by Kurapika cutting themself off so as not to waste their breath. Hisoka takes the lead again, guiding Kurapika’s weight down more fully into his lap as he arches up some to meet them. He’s somehow already worked up enough Kurapika can feel a stiffness through his pants.  
  


Slight shifting of their knees is the only adjustment that Kurapika deigns to make, letting out a shuddering breath as they finally allow themself to enjoy the physical sensations of the situation. Excitement laces easily into their positioning, twined thicker when Hisoka groans in appreciation for the first confident drag of Kurapika’s groin against his own.  
  


There is no carnal fever that leaves Kurapika eager to explore Hisoka’s body with their hands or mouth. A brace on his shoulder and chest to better grind down is the only necessity, so it’s the only effort for contact they make.  
  


Hisoka doesn’t seem to hold the same ambitions. His hands trail up and down Kurapika’s thighs, cup and give a lingering squeeze to their calves, and always find their way back to Kurapika’s hips or ass to force them momentarily harder into his lap. His mouth is always occupied with some part of their skin, too, not seeming to mind how far he has to bend his neck to properly bite the skin dark and almost bloody along prominent collarbones.  
  


Kurapika hadn’t noticed the top buttons of their shirt being undone, but they aren’t complaining. Pain causes them to gasp, first sharply, than with quieter intent. It’s not something they enjoy to the point Hisoka seems to want, something they make known when a canine finally does break the skin and causes Kurapika to hiss and shove at Hisoka’s face in hopes they’ll crack his head back against the wall.  
  


“Sorry. ♥” Hisoka licks the blood off his bottom lip and looks anything but apologetic. He cautiously leans back in so that his breath fans over Kurapika’s neck. Still displeased, Kurapika barely allows the gentle mouthing Hisoka resorts to so as to not leave marks as he was requested, trailing them up until he gets to their ear.  
  


Laving along the shell gives Kurapika a start, more sensitive there than their neck, and when teeth settle in hard around their piercing they cry out shortly and their hips lose their carefully created rhythm for a beat or two. Hisoka answers the whine with a moan of his own, making Kurapika twist their hands hard enough into Hisoka’s shirt the fabric complains and they _hope_ it’s the last warning they’re going to have to give. They’re finally hard and starting to enjoy the clothed grinding, they don’t really want to be made to get up and walk away unsatisfied by this point.  
  


Kurapika’s shirt is untucked where sharp nails can draw red lines along their sides and back. The pain makes them arch. Makes them hiss for the lingering sting that’s only made worse by the sweat that’s starting to break out over their skin. Hisoka’s teeth trace lightly around the edge of their ear, groaning much too loud for where is mouth is.  
  


What they’re both doing is more than enough to reach the end goal, but Kurapika doesn’t stop Hisoka’s hands when they wander back down to carefully undo the fly of their pants. They raise up to make his job easier and Hisoka croons over the cooperation, makes a show of slowly pushing their loosened slacks and underwear down enough that their cock is freed.  
  


He tries to push the pants down further but Kurapika stops him with a hard grip around his wrists.  
  


“I don’t need them off anymore than this.”  
  


“Hm? Are you sure?” With effort Hisoka moves against Kurapika‘s restraining hold to wrap his fingers around Kurapika’s dick and giving it a few, hard tugs. Their breathing stutters over the direct contact, and disappears entirely when Hisoka runs a nail dangerously along the side. “I guess the real question is; how far off do you need mine?”  
  


Kurapika startles, unsure if Hisoka is actually offering himself to be put into a vulnerable position of penetration, but it’s hard to think when he’s teasing their foreskin back, a gliding motion made too simple by how slick they are at the moment.  
  


“You’re overestimating how long I could last in such a situation.” Hisoka seems to take that as some kind of compliment, head tilting and hand slowing in its pumping motion. Having had their own pants pushed down for them Kurapika decides returning the favor is well within what they’re allowed to do rather than bothering with an explanation as to what would be a better use of their time.  
  


Hisoka’s pants are simple, just elastic snugly clinging them around his waist. Impatiently pushing Hisoka’s hands back to his side for the moment Kurapika dips their thumbs into his waistband until Hisoka arches. When he does Kurapika carefully pulls them down, trying to be courteous to leave Hisoka some kind of barrier between his ass and the ground when they find an apparent lack of underwear.  
  


After that there’s nothing left to do but dip their hand in to better get his dick out. They’d felt how large the outline of it had been through his pants, but palming it with their hand and then seeing it gives an entirely different basis for its size.  
  


“You’ll make me blush if you don’t stop staring like that.” Kurapika spares Hisoka a withering look for the attempt at modesty when it was clear their staring had only excited him more, if the new trail of precome was anything to go by.  
  


“I’ll make it up to you by letting you do the honors.” Shifting back in close has their cocks pressing flush against one another and Hisoka doesn’t need to be told twice to wrap his hand around them both. He keeps his hand still as Kurapika experimentally fucks into the tight space until their breathing goes somewhat labored. Hisoka works off the slow pace that Kurapika sets, matching the increase of speed and punctuating the harder thrusts by squeezing tighter.  
  


“Look how wet you’re getting. ♦” Arousal deepens and roughens Hisoka’s voice, an authentic sound compared to how he’d like other’s to hear him most of the time. The resonance has heat flare unexpectedly in Kurapika’s stomach, but the words themselves have their mouth twisting distaste.  
  


“Shut -- “ They interrupt themself with a quiet moan, toes curling in their shoes. Hisoka’s hand starts to work out of rhythm to how Kurapika is moving, giving the stabs of pleasure an unpredictable quality that has Kurapika panting heavier. Their hands at some point braced again on Hisoka’s shoulders, absently kneading at times when Hisoka’s pace slows to make the build a little more gradual, teasing because he likes that it gets Kurapika to impatiently thrust harder against him.  
  


Hisoka’s hand starts moving faster when his own patience runs out, fingers tightening almost cruelly so that Kurapika chokes, clings, and arches for at the intensity of what’s happening. Their eyes are closed, self-conscious of their irises potentially flashing red. The lack of sight means they flinch violently at the touch to the side of their face.  
  


Hisoka's fingers push the hair back and out of their face, a concerningly gentle gesture until Kurapika has their ‘aha’ moment when Hisoka grabs a generous amount of their hair to drag them in closer. They open their eyes a second too late, mouth open in complaint at the painful pulling only to let out a thin moan when Hisoka’s hand manages to move even more roughly between them.  
  


In a blink Hisoka’s tongue has made it into their mouth, hand forcing Kurapika’s head to a better angle to lick further inside. Detached as they are from rational thought Kurapika can only think about how it feels like Hisoka is fucking their mouth, a not entirely unpleasant experience in their currently addle minded opinion.  
  


Further mounting of pleasure reaches a peak in a matter of moments, locking Kurapika’s muscles so that they’re moaning into a sudden cold that is the lack of Hisoka’s mouth, who must have pulled away in anticipation to hear how loud Kurapika could get. They shake almost violently through their orgasm, fingers curling ruthlessly into Hisoka’s body to leave bruises that Hisoka is already vocally appreciating.  
  


There’s no chance to go lax once they’re spent because Hisoka hasn’t stopped moving his hand yet, a dazed glance revealing he _has_ also reached orgasm at some point unbeknownst to them.  
  


Kurapika twitches for the simultaneous squeeze around their cock and hot, opened mouth kiss Hisoka places on their jaw. They jerk the next time Hisoka twists his hand to rub just under the head, and jerk again when Hisoka tightens his grip on the down stroke just as much as he had on the upstroke.  
  


“Getting sensitive? ♣” The only response Kurapika can give is an immediate and loud hitch to their breathing as their mouth drops open. They press their lips together and hum lowly, eyelids fluttering halfway shut as they contemplate letting Hisoka drag this out, because at this rate Kurapika won’t go soft, and neither will he.  
  


Instead they sigh irritably for the idiotic thoughts that come with a post-orgasmic mind, and not at all for the lack of time in their schedule to act on said lust filled ideas. They catch Hisoka by the wrist hard enough they can feel his bones bend under their strength and doesn’t miss how it makes Hisoka’s cock twitch in interest.  
  


“I need my information now.”


End file.
